Aurulent
by Guilty.Ink
Summary: Life in the Capitol was far from perfect: not when your father was exiled from the city for researching the archaic ruins of life before Panem, and not when the boy you loved was being paid to spend nights with your mother. FinnickOC.
1. Sea Green

PROLOGUE

_Sea Green_

The first time they met, it was in the most...unconventional way.

She had been fourteen, waking up to...a banging. A repetitive, constant beat, creak and it grew faster and faster and faster - and then it stopped.

Marcella opened her eyes, mumbling as she threw her legs over her bed. Her head was slightly spinning and she had to squeeze her eyes shut before she finally brought herself to stand up. There was no longer the sound, but it was replaced by long breaths and sighs. Then there was the sound of stumbling feet. Someone was getting up, she realized. She walked down the cold, marble floors, her hands tracing the metal walls as the corridor opened up to the overly-grand living room.

There was someone leaving. Someone with haunted eyes, someone with a look of death in his face and disgust in the set of his mouth. Someone with sea green eyes, and he was simply staring at her.

She recognized that face, but she could not quite place it.

As she opened her mouth, she heard a step behind her. She turned around to see her mother, the white make up smeared on her face - strange, Marcella thought, usually her mother would clean her face of it before she went to bed - and her long, glittering eyelashes slightly misplaced. Her violet lipstick was smudged, and her eyes were slightly red as if she had kept on the very same purple contacts for much too long. But she was smiling, and her face was flushed. She looked happy. "Mom?" Marcella mumbled, tired.

"Go back to bed sweetie," her mother cooed, smiling. She walked past her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's all fine here."

"But who's he?" Marcella asked, waking up slowly. The boy in front of her looked, physically, to be no more than several years old but the expression on his face was beyond her fourteen years of age. He had a mess of bronze hair, and those eyes - they were so familiar, but she could _not _place it - made him look boyish and, well, handsome.

And then Marcella began to really wake up. Her stomach curled.

_My mother...and...him_?

She wanted to vomit. The boy looked like he wanted to rip off his skin.

* * *

Hello readers! My first ever Hunger Games fic, but I had been reading it since seventh grade and yet...I never thought about writing FF until now. But with the release of Catching Fire, my love just came back entirely so here I am! This is a test run, but I do have a plot playing around in my head.

I've noticed a lot of stories being about life in the districts...and...well, why not explore life in Capitol?

Thank you for reading, and reviews would be lovely :)

And of course, the wonderful characters belong to Suzanne Collins, and not me, with the exception of OC.


	2. Gold

CHAPTER ONE

_Gold_

Nothing felt better than the water beneath him. It felt like silk. He closed his eyes and could feel everything - the water that surrounded him like a second layer of skin, the warm breeze that wafted over the surface of his body, and the absolute sense of solitude. His eyes were closed, but he could still see the gold of the sun beneath his eyelids. He did not know how long, but he simply stayed there: afloat in the water.

There were often perks of being the victor, and more so the perks of being a victor in District 4. This was one of them.

Finnick Odair had the entire body of water that was encircled by the victor's village, away from the rest of the district with its docks and piers and wharves and quays. It was there a cliff and some rugged sandy shorelines overlooked a bay only he, his family and Mag had access to and it was there that he spent some of his hours doing absolutely nothing. It was there that fishes swarmed in schools and there the clear, beautiful water reflected the cobalt blue skies above it. There, it was peaceful.

And then it was interrupted.

His eyes snapped open and he ducked his head down immediately the moment he heard the guttering roar of an engine but just as quick, he swam back up. Slightly breathless, he reminded himself that there was no danger and that there was no need to hide. But even four years, the days he spent caged inside the Games instilled in him reflexes that he could not shake off.

He tried to pinpoint exactly where the noise came from and located a motor boat drifting on the far corner of the bay...in fact, it was going exactly going back to all the fishing boats that he tried to avoid.

Finnick frowned, but thought little of it. He assumed it was some young group of adults that somehow got lost and wandered into the bay. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps he wasn't so sharp after all and they had slipped through the bluffs that separated the bodies of water silently and he had only noticed them leave.

He wasn't too worried about it. He only had one thing in mind - and that was the Reaping that would take place an hour from then.

…

My father had always told me that oxygen was the bane of him.

Oxygen took away things - it aged things, it destroyed things. He didn't care that he breathed it in every moment of his life. He only noticed that it was oxygen that ruined thousands of items of life before Panem.

For that reason, he loved water. He loved the natural preservation. He loved ice and sand even more - but with the limitations imposed on him, many of the items he had discovered was right here deep in the ocean off District 4. He loved the waters and absolutely everything about it. I still remember when I was younger, sitting on his lap as he explained the way the water glittered like crystals, the way an abundance of colourful fishes would swim right by him, and the excitement he felt every single time he uncovered the roof of a building that was once thought lost for centuries.

I remembered how beautiful I thought it would be.

That was my exact thought as I swam deeper and deeper into the ocean.

There was absolute and utter silence. I could not see much but the light in front of me, even my hands seemed to blur into the blackness. I could hear my breathing and the tick of the oxygen tank behind me that allowed it. He was right in some aspects, I could still see the the fishes - but they were nothing more than passing shadows, a movement in my peripherals.

Still, I felt my legs move as I floated hundreds of meters below the ocean surface. I was in the twilight zone, and I had nothing but what looked like an endless amount of darkness surrounding me. I couldn't see a glint of anything. Not a single remnant of what had once soared and touched the skies.

_Beep. Beep. Beeeeeep. _

I looked down at my timer and it signalled only several minutes of oxygen left. Granted, I had been drifting for a decent hour, it still irritated me that I did not find anything four days into my deep sea exploration.

I began making my way up to the surface, reaching out and pushing the water behind me, peddling the flippers until I at last broke completely out of the shadows and slowly into the clear, blue waters my father had always described to me. I had no time to appreciate the beauty of it all as I headed directly towards the bottom of the boat.

_Beep. Beeeeep. _

And then my head broke through the waters and I tore off my mask, gasping for air.

Light flooded around me, and I could not even open my eyes. I kept them squinted as I clutched onto the metal bars of the boats and hauled myself over.

"How'd it go?"

"Nothing," I replied as I fumbled around for sunglasses. I was still breathing heavily by the time I found them. Quickly, I unbuckled everything and set it aside, then wrapped myself in a towel. The man in front of me only looked at me once, nodded, and then turned to the motor.

"You took a lot longer than usual," he said gruffly, without looking at me. I blinked.

"Sorry, I got deeper than I thought I could." I looked down at my suit. Capitol fashioned it exactly for expeditions like this. It allowed me to go deeper into the water without fearing about my body exploding from the pressure. "How long?"

"Twenty minutes longer," he said over the roar of the engine and splash of the water as it splitted against the head of the boat.

"Sorry," I apologized again as I began drying my hair. I cleared my throat. "Sorry."

This time, I said it in a lower pitch.

I could see him nod and I flinch. I knew exactly what he was thinking - that here he was, stuck in the middle of no where from some nosy, rich Capitol girl with a slight adventure lust. And then another thought dawned on me -

"I'm sorry," I say again. I note to flatten my tone. It sounded emotionless in my ears, but just as well I knew that the way I usually spoke sounded overly flamboyant to his. It was strange that way. I still remember the first time I stepped foot in District Four and was surprised at how they felt so..._much_. Or perhaps it was how genuine they were about their emotions that caught me off guard.

Because, of course, I faked all my emotions. Capitol did. We exaggerate what we didn't have. I felt detached as I asked, "Do you have anyone...there?" At the reaping, I didn't add.

There was a moment before he responded. "My boy," he said lowly. I had to walk closer to him. "Eighteen. His last Reaping."

"May - " I stopped myself immediately. _May the odds be in your favour. _I had almost spoken the line that was like air to me, but a slap in the face to those in the District. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

…

The heart of District Four seemed was crowded when we arrived. It was completely different to the district I had seen when I first stepped into the town.

I still remember shielding my eyes as I stepped off the silver bullet train. I remember the emptiness. No one came to the station, not unless they were leaving for business. I didn't expect to see anyone there. But immediately I was surrounded with salt in the air and the sounds of waves crashing against a shore. Not too far away was the bustling market but right now, it was completely empty as everyone gathered to where the Reaping was being held.

My guide left me with no more than a nod to circle around with the rest of the parents that had their eyes solely glued on to their child. I looked everywhere. It wasn't everyday I was actually present at the reaping but it was quieter than I was used to. There was no music, no booming voice over. It was anticipation, nerves, and silence.

I stood there, watching the parents watch the children watch the escort watch the annual reminder video they always broadcast. I was so absorbed with simply observing them that when I felt a shove on my back, I nearly fell over.

"Get in line -"

"I'm not a part of this district," I said, surprised. The peacekeeper clad in white was gruff and he grabbed my arm roughly, jerking me to the section where I saw people who looked my age was standing at. They were all watching me. "Let _go _of me," I said again, trying to pull my arm back. "I'm from Capitol - my name is Marcella Thorne, I'm on the 18th exhibition -"

"Be quiet!" he demanded. He spoke onto a device and immediately, there was another arm on me. I began to panic.

"If you don't let me go -"

My threat caused attraction. The blue-haired escort still had his back towards me as he watched the video, but the others on the stage spotted my head in the midst of the crowd. I couldn't focus clearly on one of them but I saw movement. The rational side of me knew that there was no point to protest because my name was not a part of the drawings and yet the very _idea _of me being in the group of tributes brought me a fear that had never been provoked in Capitol.

And before I really started trying to get away, a voice broke through. "What are you doing? She's from the Capitol."

I turned around to my saviour.

Finnick Odair.

And he recognized me. His green eyes glanced at me, and then away as he placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the peacekeeper and pushed him back. "Does she _look _like one of us?" he continued to ask lowly. We were attracting attention now that the video was over but the cameras were floating over us, only pointing towards the escort who was ignoring the growing disaster. He was carrying on as normal, and Finnick's voice dropped accordingly. "Everyone's watching us."

The peacekeeper's face was behind the mask but I saw him turn to really look at me and Finnick Odair stated the point that should have really been quite obvious. I did not look like I was from District Four.

I may have not been wearing make up, nor extravagant clothing but upon closer observation, it was clear I was not born from the sea as everyone else here. The dark brown of my hair was not kissed blonde by the sun and there were streaks of pale gold hiding beneath my hair, streaks that could only be dyed in Capitol. My skin was pale, unusual. I was smaller, more breakable. I didn't have an inch of muscle around me the way everyone else did here who worked their whole life. I rightfully looked as if I had grown up around pages of lost novels and it was clear once the suggestion was brought up.

And of course, the very obvious emblem that _stated _I was a Capitol citizen stitched onto the jacket I wore. I felt the hands drop and they walked away quickly before they began a larger problem. I exhaled deeply, and turned back to Finnick Odair. "Thank you," I said. I watched him carefully. I wondered if he knew who I was, the way I knew who _he _was.

_Mom?_

_Go back to bed, sweetie. It's all fine here._

_But who is he?_

His eyes ran down me once, his face void of all emotions. There was no bitterness, no anger, nothing. "I didn't do it for you." He turned and walked away.

So he didn't recognize me after all. Strange, because the image of his sixteen year old self with his famous sea green eyes glued to the ground was scarred into my memories where it had remained for the past two years.

* * *

**A/N:** Took a while to get this out and it _is _a slow start but I had to figure out where I was going with this story. To address a certain question -

Yes, Annie will be a part of this story. Her role in everything will become obvious later :)

I was amazed at all the feedback/fav/follows the prologue got out so thank you so much! And thanks for checking back and reading this too, of course. And since I probably won't update next week, happy holidays!


	3. Burgundy

CHAPTER TWO

_Burgundy _

Here was the thing about Hunger Games in the Capitol -

We all loved it.

And we were all very well aware of the violence, the cruelness, the in-humaneness of it all and yet somehow it was smothered by the fact that all of these events ignited emotions that we had thought we lost. I watch the Hunger Games each and every year. And throughout all those times, it never failed to bring out a reaction from me, whether it be pain or pity or excitement or love. And somehow, those days of emotions made me feel…

Human, I suppose.

And when the Hunger Games were over, I felt strange again. I felt suddenly aware of everyone else and not myself. I had no thoughts but thoughts of others. I did not think about how I felt, only about how others perceived me. I was in competition with everyone else again - for who wore the brightest clothing, who looked the best, who was the most extravagant. I had no life of my own, and felt horribly empty and no matter what I did, nothing could break me out of it.

And for that reason, for that glimpse of human emotions, I returned to Capitol to watch the 69th Hunger Games.

…

I rode on the train with the Tributes and the Mentors and the Escort and the rest of the crew of Avoxes. I was in the back, away from the world of the Hunger Games that took place on the train but rather in the shuttles reserved for people from Capitol doing business. I felt a sense of defeat as I returned with absolutely nothing, but it happened and I had to get used to it now.

With my hair washed with scented oils, it retained the moisture and luster I was used to after living in Capitol for my entire sixteen-year life and lost in the four days I spent in the harsh sea. On the other hand, the initial change back into this world, this world of powder on every inch of skin and pinned up hair was a feat I wasn't excited to return to. Instead, the four days I had broken away made me much more keen about wearing my hair down, free of the wigs my mother imposed on me, and wearing much simpler clothing.

I still remember the laugh I had when it took me no more than fifteen minutes to get dressed and ready before going out to the sea. Even though I spent a large portion of my time in the Capitol Archives, there was still a standard of dress that required at least an hour of preparation. An hour wasted, I had always thought, but could have done nothing about until now.

I left my room, a sleek design of black and silver and blue furnished with leather and glossy fabrics. Looking down the quiet corridor, I called out, "Davina!"

Not even two seconds later, a middle-aged Avox dressed entirely in burnt red appeared before my door. Her burgundy hair was tied neatly back, and wrinkles lined her face but otherwise it did not look as if she had once seen the years of troubles of being a rebel. She did not smile, but her face was kind.

And she, of course, was a mother to me. Not my real mother. My real mother resided in Capitol, probably still asleep after a lavish party thrown the night before. The woman in front of me right now wore a tag on her clothing. _Marcella Thorne. _I frowned immediately. "Who put that on you?" I asked quickly, appalled. She looked at me, silent, but there was the obvious question in the air. _Why are you talking like that?_

"I worked hard on this accent," I said distractedly as I moved closer to her, my hand on her back as I prompt her inside, "I don't want to lose it. I'll be back here after the Games are over anyway." She had raised me my entire life, and I was one of the many Capitol children who was raised by their real parents only at the surface. My mother dressed me, and that was the end of our relationship. My childhood was filled with memories of Davina feeding me, washing me, brushing my hair, helping me find my things. Davina's head dipped slightly with a shrug, as if to say _oh well. _

"Come, come," I said as I gestured towards my room. "Have you been standing outside the entire time?" She nodded. I removed the tag on her. I didn't like it. It was as if she was property and although I knew many Avoxes were treated the same, it was different when it came to one that had been with me the very moment I was born.

_There is your Capitol showing again, always assuming everything that doesn't apply to you is the exception to the norm, _a voice whispered inside my head. It was my father's voice, figuratively. He had a sense of awareness that was universal, one that looked past the hundreds of layers veiled over Capitol that made us appear and act and live and socialize the way we did. Like aliens. I kept this in mind as I turned to face her.

I wanted to develop the same sense of awareness my father had. But more than that, I wanted to be disciplined. I didn't want to be rash, like my father. Outspoken. Temperamental. I didn't want to have the courage to ridicule publicly.

It was what made him go missing eight years ago, and I refused to allow it to happen to me. I would remain silent and smile at President Snow every time he asked _what do you have for me this time? _As long as it meant that I was allowed to go on these exhibitions to all these districts in search of remnants of life before Panem, then fine, I would play along.

I exhaled noisily when I took a seat on the bed and I swore it sunk at least a feet. It was unbelievably soft, a luxury that I had gone without as I stayed on a boat rented out and docked on the shores of District Four. I felt cool hands on my face. Smiling tiredly I looked up at Davina's worried face. "I'm fine, it's just been a lot of hard work."

She took a seat on the bed, an action that would have had other Avoxes deranked to the most degrading of labours if not executed. But again it was different for Davina. She _knew _she was more of my mother than Marcia Thorne had ever been. Her eyes told me to go on, to tell her about my days here. So I do.

I told her about arriving at District Four, about tracking down my guide, about getting the boat, about going out to the sea five times a day through periods of an hour each. I tell her how each swim got a little deeper until this morning when I reached the twilight zone - and still did not find anything.

Sensing my disappointment, Davina got up and crossed the room. She opened a chest and pulled out yellowed pages of a book kept together in order within a folder. I smiled a little as she opened book, skimmed through the pages and held it out to me - pointing at one line in particular.

_You musn't confuse a single failure with a final defeat. _

I laughed. "Thank you, Davina. But this wasn't the first time - the fourth." She shrugged.

My father, Cassius Thorne, had brought a fortune to my family by finding books. He found jewels, he found threadbare clothing, paintings and portraits. Some where preserved deep into the waters of sunken lands, while others were within mountains in metal boxes. I still remembered the stories he told me of him, being twenty three, going deep underground the shorelines of District Three and uncovering metal containers hundreds of feet below the dirt and sand surfaces. They suspected it had been from a survivalist group that had drowned once the water took over the land - but not before they were able to save some things.

There had been books, and this was one of them: Tender is the Night.

"In any case, I think I may go somewhere...easier next time." I felt exhausted. I had exerted energy that would have been the accumulation of a month's work back in Capitol. It was tiring, but it made me feel more alive than I had ever before - including while watching the Games. Although I only felt defeated and sore and exhausted, it felt so _different_. This was the fourth time I had left the city and I wanted to revel in feeling of accomplishment now before the lure of laziness and sloth took over again.

Davina walked in front of me and then pointed towards the dress that hung on the wall. I made a face. "Will mother be at the station?" I asked. She watched me carefully, her brown eyes betraying her bitterness as she shook her head. "Then I see no reason to dress up." Davina frowned.

I didn't look like I was from Capitol. Perhaps I did when I was standing in the middle of all the other citizens of District Four but now in the elaborate backdrop of the bullet train I looked very plain. But I was amazed at how much easier it was to move in these pair of black boots and pants and a simple knit sweater than the gold dress with a skirt that seemed to have three layers - tulle, cotton, satin - and an unbearably tight bodice, and sleeves that extended so that it circled over my middle fingers.

She looked at me again, harder this time. Then she looked at the lock. There was less than fifteen minutes before we arrived in Capitol.

"Do you know what I _have _learned this time when I left Capitol?"

Davina waited.

I held up my finger and sat up to take the book again. Quoting, I said, "_'He was so terrible that he was no longer terrible, only dehumanized_ -"

The door slid open, and Davina froze.

But at the door was a very confused, very wide-eyed brown haired girl. She could have been no more than twelve and she looked just as scared as Davina did. "I - I'm sorry," she stammered nervously. "I didn't realize someone was in here, I was just exploring and - and sorry -"

"Jules, where are you -"

And then Finnick was there. Staring. Staring at an Avox, a twelve year old girl, and me. "I told you that this part of the train is reserved," he said in a hushed tone. "Go back to meet Blue, he's going to begin explaining to you the schedule."

The girl, Jules, looked as if she was on the verge of fainting. She must be one of the Tributes, I realized. She looked up at Finnick with doe-like eyes and I thought she wanted to cry right then and there. She looked at Finnick as if he was the only one who could save her, but he wasn't the charming, smiling Finnick Odair that had graced the screens all across Panem over the years. He looked solemn. "You'll be fine," he said without much conviction. "Just get going, you don't want to seem weak in front of these people."

_These people. _Meaning me.

When Jules left, he glanced between Davina and I. "You were the girl that tangled with the peacekeeper."

"I am," I said and ignored the inquisitive glance Davina threw me. He glanced between us again, and I saw the very moment he decided to play friendly. A smile spread across his mouth and his eyes lost the tough edge as he took a step in the room. I stood up immediately when he offered his hand.

He smiled _that _smile as he said, "I'm Finnick Odair."

"I think everyone knows who you are," I said, my voice slightly cracking. I had always seen him on monitors and screens and the one time I _had _seen him in person was a moment that he was in his most vulnerable state. If he had heard my voice break, he didn't comment. "I'm Marcella. Marcella Thorne."

The smile that deepened said that he _did _hear the croak and that it amused him. If there was a power struggle, he was winning. Victor against Capitol. "Now, why do you look familiar, Marcella, Marcella Thorne?"

I ignored the tease in his tone because of the question I did not want to answer. Why do I look familiar? Because you had seen me for three seconds the night you were at my home a couple years back. When you had been given to my mother in order for the Capitol Archives to gain access to the Thorne Library that held over 300 texts pre-Panem. You had seen me when you were sixteen and prostituted and I could not look at you, eighteen and handsome, and _not _think of that forlorn expression.

But I didn't say that. I echoed his earlier statement. "Because I was the girl tangled with the peacekeepers." An expression flickered across his face that had disappeared before I could recognize it. With his smile slowly diminishing, he bowed his head slightly in a more mocking salute than anything else.

"Well then, Marcella, Marcella Thorne, Girl Tangled with Peacekeepers, it was a pleasure meeting you."

And with that, he left back to the tributes that, in a matter of weeks if not days, would not return to District Four.

* * *

Thanks for reading! :)


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